


I Don't Think You Understand

by orphan_account



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:26:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, to put it into words. Deadpool wasn't exactly well liked in the Marvel universe.</p><p>A lot of things go unnoticed when it came to Deadpool, even Deadpool wouldn't notice the tiny detailed aspects of himself either. </p><p>The fact that Deadpool craved attention, that he wanted to be like certain people, that he wanted to be good in some way. That his self esteem was extremely low, that he'd give a lot to be loved. And that when he is loved, he hurts the people who love him.</p><p>And, with nothing really worth living for but not being able to die, there was nothing else to do but get money, fuck bitches, and look for hope. And he casted his hope upon the people who he admired, which were a lot of people, but a specific somebody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a prompt found in Spideypool Fanfics on Tumblr (http://spideypoolfanfics.tumblr.com/) But i can't seem to find the prompt anymore :C
> 
> Anyway, based off of Kodaline - All I Want and it's MUSIC VIDEO (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtf7hC17IBM)  
> I might do another Fic based off of the song.

Well, to put it into words. Deadpool wasn't exactly well liked in the Marvel universe. 

Although made fun of, nobody really LIKED him. Nobody generally enjoyed his company, except for maybe Bob, and Deadpool didn't exactly enjoy Bob's company as much as he enjoyed his. But what was to like? Deadpool was annoying, perverted, irritating, insane, murderous, and crazy with a serious case of ADHD. 

And although tended to be the underdog of some serious situations he was not often put into, it was never really noticed. Deadpool would never really mind either. That a lot of things go unnoticed when it came to Deadpool, even Deadpool wouldn't notice the tiny detailed aspects of himself either. 

The fact that Deadpool craved attention, that he wanted to be like certain people, that he wanted to be good in some way. That his self esteem was extremely low, that he'd give a lot to be loved. And that when he is loved, he hurts the people who love him. All that. 

And that having no friends or anybody as close as he wanted actually hurt him. That the rejects, the X-Men, rejected him. The rejects rejected him. And it stung, it really did. It hurt like a bitch. 

Nobody really UNDERSTOOD, not like there's much to understand, it just sucks really bad. The immortality, the constant wanting to be in deaths arms again. Constantly looking for a way to die. As casual as it had become, the overall big picture was a little sad. 

And, with nothing really worth living for but not being able to die, there was nothing else to do but get money, fuck bitches, and look for hope. And he casted his hope upon the people who he admired, which were a lot of people, but a specific somebody. 

This somebody not only inspired him, but also actually tolerated him in some way. Actually liked HIM, not the things he did, but him in general, kind of. Deadpool was even excited to consider the two of them maybe even a little bit of friends. 

Still, even with his healing factor it never helped with healing heartache. He'd hate the feeling of his heart kind of, splitting when he was asked to leave by Spiderman or ever heard complaint from him. 

He'd watch, kind of sad, when Daredevil would scold Spiderman for even associating with Wade so closely, and when Tony Stark would drive him off when he didn't leave New York after being told to. 

And Deadpool would sigh, give up on his attempt at becoming some kind of hero, and take up a job that's been awaiting his answer. 

 

\--- 

 

Deadpool sighed and sat up on a building rooftop, awaiting one Spiderman. He didn't exactly make an effort to make himself known that he was there in New York, but it usually didn't take Spiderman long to figure out Deadpool was present. He wasn’t feeling the effort today.

Even sitting on a rooftop was considered dangerous, apparently, and Spiderman would be there soon enough to ask of his presence. 

Deadpool watched the cityscape from his perch, burying his chin into his palm wishing he had gotten something to eat before. Or some type of entertainment.

His wish was granted when the sudden sound of police sirens bounced off of the concrete landscapes, and a big explosion that followed after. His eyes widened, as well as his smile as he noticed the sudden distraction and stood to go check out the scene. Surely, with something that cool and exciting Spiderman's gotta be there, right?

Deadpool stood, and made way towards the party.

And upon arriving, the scene was hectic. The fire had begun to spread to buildings beside it and the fire station was quickly trying to extinguish the increasing flames. Burnt and charred civilians hugged their babies close and stared at the apartment building, watching their belongings burn. But that wasn't what caught Deadpool's attention, what caught his attention is a battered half conscious Spiderman with some green dude hovering above him on some type of hover board a few buildings over.

The hover board had gun nozzles poking out of the front, a nearly unconscious spiderman in its sights. And something told Deadpool he wasn't a friend of Spidey, by the way he cackled.

The humming of the glider's guns starting up was enough to make Deadpool react.

 

\---

The sudden ricochet of a bullet bouncing off of the Green Goblin's helmet caused the hover board to turn to look at his attacker, who stood upon a building next door to the one he was ready to kill spiderman on. Before he could spot the attacker, another bullet bounced off of his helmet but more specifically where is eye was, the protective glass armor keeping the bullet from shredding his brains, but still cracking severely nevertheless.

He screeched, covering his eye and becoming more worried of one of the bullets breaking through to his overall unprotected vital parts. His hover board started up to retreat, but not before he heard his attacker speak.

"You know, I really like your really cool hovering skateboard thing with guns and I was wondering where you could get me one-" And before Deadpool could finish his sentence he had already flown off.

Deadpool scoffed, as he hopped to the neighboring building and approached Spiderman. His suit was torn, burnt, and bloodied. He lay on his back, which arched horribly as he gasped and screeched for air. He coughed, and his body rocked, at the burning in his lungs. The wretched gasps and the sounds of unsuccessful breaths coming from the hero would cause anybody’s hearts to stop. Deadpool stood over him and scratched his head, analyzing the situation at hand.

He picked up the sputtering hero and set him down against a nearby brick wall, away from the flames, perching him so he was somewhat sat up. Still, Spiderman retched and coughed and hunched over, scratching at his throat for some fresh air. And although his body was in a better position to breath, the dirtied air and smoke were still trapped in his lungs and unable to escape.

That means there was only one solution.

Deadpool ripped the mask off of Spiderman, and damn was the thing tight as balls, but was still satisfied at the sudden gasp and inhale of obviously good clean air Spiderman took. The way his breathing became less and less drastic and hectic, and became steadier was something Deadpool was extremely satisfied over.

But satisfaction was gone once he took a good actual look at Spiderman's bloodied and sweaty face. In fact, Deadpool's face scrunched up in near disgust and disbelief, taking a step back. Spiderman (more like Spider BOY) looked up at Deadpool. Typically the look that Spiderman gave Deadpool was disappointment, amusement, and disbelief. Right now, his brown eyes only showed signs of worry, death, and helplessness. He coughed again.

"Deadpool?"

"Oh my God, you're like, fifteen. Do you have any idea how hard I've been crushing on you?"

"Wha-" And he was out like a light. Blip, gone. 

Goddammit. Deadpool stood, looking down at the now unconscious boy. The disbelief struck him like a bullet train. He began to pace, rubbing his temples as the voices in his head began to consider his options with the now unconscious potential fifteen year old boy that happened to be his crush since forever that was nearly bleeding to death that sat in front of him.

Goddammit, he hated jailbait.

"Oh my God, he's fifteen."

[We shouldn't be focusing on that right now, he's unconscious.]

{Well what should we even do?}

"What is there to do? Should we just leave him?"

[Well, the RIGHT thing to do is to drop him off at the Avengers Tower or something.]

{What, and put him in the hands of someone as untrusting as Tony Stark? The kid's identity would be everywhere!!}

"Anyway, he'd probably blame the whole thing on me."

[I don't think-]

{We should take him back to our place.}

"But he's like, fifteen, isn't that illegal?"

{No, not unless we touch him sexually.}

[Then what would we do?]

{Patch him up or whatever.}

[Yeah, like we have any kind of first aid experience.]

"How hard could it be?"

And with that, Deadpool gripped the charred Spiderman mask, lugged Spiderman into his arms bridal-style and began the strategic walk back to his apartment. It was meant to be strategic due to keeping his identity safe, but it was kind of hard when you have an unconscious fifteen year old in your hands.

Anyway, the second they got to Deadpool's crappy apartment, only about twenty minutes later, Deadpool gingerly set Spiderman down onto his stained couch and set him in a somewhat comfortable position. Deadpool stared at him, looking at his small frame and face, at the face that hid behind the mask he's known for years. Deadpool’s head, however, ruined the moment by piping up over what they should do next.

[Probably patch him up, since that's what we were intending to do.]

{It's kind of difficult with his skintight suit. Seriously, why would he want something that tight clinging to him? Imagine the wedgies. Our wedgies are horrible and his suit is like three times tighter than ours! Holy shit!}

"So, what, do we take it off?" Deadpool wrinkled his face in disgust, still staring at the now steady breathing Spiderman.

[That's the plan.]

{Ewwww but he's like, fifteen.}

"I still can't get over the fact that he's fifteen."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter's eyes fluttered open to the sound of sizzling and the smell of breakfast foods. He groaned, sitting up and attempting to rub the knots out of his neck as he tried to blink his eyes into focus. And after a minute of groaning and messaging himself, he finally opened his eyes to observe his surroundings.

And he nearly jumped from the beat up couch he previously sat up upon; the room he was in was unfamiliar and nearly scared him to death. It was trashed, the color of the walls and carpet a disgusting green that was warn into a brown color. There were stains and splatters that were both new and old painted across the walls, carpet, ceiling, and nearly every surface.

And it was a mess, the place was littered with dirty socks and underwear and old cans and pizza boxes and food. The TV that sat in front of him was old and worn; the antennae crooked and sat in weird angled ways with duck tape attached randomly. On the walls there were posters of various things; women, videogames, heroes. Specifically, Spiderman and Captain America.

Peter looked down at himself, nearly horrified, as he was stuck in a white tank and Spiderman boxers that were both too big for him. He looked up, shocked, as the events that had taken place how many hours or days ago came back to him. The vague memory of fire and a lot of pain and The Green Goblin with a gun nozzle in his face, it all came back. And with the memory coming back, so did the agony.

He gasped, the sudden hurt spreading full body. His joints and bones ached, the dull pain of burns and cuts that were all over his torso and limbs coming back. He look at his patched arms and frowned. The gauze that was wrapped so tightly around his forearms and stomach had Hello Kitty Band-Aids securing them, as well as several patches of Spiderman Band-Aids covering minor bruises. To be honest, it was a little cute.

Even still, the worry still rose like fire through his chest at the thought of his Spiderman suit being misplaced and someone knowing his secret identity, someone took off his mask, someone knows who he is. And according to the state of their apartment, they shouldn't be trusted. Especially with the variety of Spiderman references, this guy probably already sold his protective cup attached to his Spidey suit on ebay, or jerked off to it.

The humming that came in the next room had suddenly stopped, along with Peter's heart, as the heavy set loud footsteps came nearer to the room he was in.

And his heart suddenly got a kick start when a black and red mask popped around the corner, with a silly chef's hat on.

"Morning, baby boy!" A smile stretched across his mask.

"D-Deadpool?" He sighed, not in relief, but at the sudden stress that was pushed against him. The nickname Deadpool gave him unfortunately reassured Peter that Deadpool knew his identity, knew that he was Spiderman and not some guy dressed as him. Peter stood, groaning as his muscles protested and the burns screamed at him to sit down. Still, he limped his way towards the door. "Oh my God, I-I have to go."

Deadpool had now fully stepped out from behind the doorframe, showing off his 'Kiss the Merc' apron, which had some mysterious stains on it. But, stains regardless, Deadpool's face was pulled into disappointment. "B-but you're not fully healed yet, you can't just LEAVE! I... I saved your life!!"

Peter looked over his shoulder; not minding of showing his face considering he imagined Deadpool had already seen it. He sighed, his body screaming to listen to him.

"Deadpool-" And, oddly enough, pity struck him. Pity and thankfulness. And it wasn't just his body telling him to stay, so was his conscience. He sighed, turned and bit his lip; pressing against the door he had a firm grip on. Worry struck him, and he swallowed the forming lump in his throat.

"Do you recognize me?"

"What do you mean? Of course I recognize you! Who would ever forget that sweet, Spidey voice?" Deadpool sighed and Peter glared. "Spidey, right? More like SpiderBoy, speaking of I-"

Peter glared and rolled his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're like fifteen!"

"I'm eighteen!" Peter snapped back.

Deadpool smiled and crossed his arms, leaning back against the doorframe with satisfaction written all over his face. "That means you're legal! I told you so!"

Peter ignored the potential conversation Deadpool was having in his head, along with the profane observation Deadpool made, and proceeded to ask questions.

"How long have I been out?"

"Twenty-four hours."

Peter gulped, refraining from calling out his Aunt's name out of worry. Instead he clenched his knuckles, took a step forwards, and spoke. He sighed heavily beforehand, knowing the risk of calling Aunt May from a different phone number after being gone for an entire day, she was quite the worrier.

"Do you have a phone I can borrow?"

Deadpool brightened up a little as he reached into the pouches on his belt behind his apron. Although Deadpool was at home, he still had the katana sword handles sticking from either side of his shoulders, the utility belt, and the twin pistols strapped to either side of his thighs. And after a little bit of digging, which looked disgustingly like something else from behind the apron, he finally pulled out a heavily cracked IPhone 3G.

Peter sighed as he walked over, took the phone, and attempted to maneuver the damaged device (with notably a selfie Deadpool must have taken with him when he wasn't looking set as the background. Jesus). The fact that Deadpool hasn't sold his protective cup from his Spidey-suit, or even asked anything about him and still referred to him as Spiderman, gave Peter enough confidence to call Aunt May without having to safely lock himself in a room and whisper. That and he didn't trust Deadpool's home enough to be locked into a room alone.

Before Aunt May picked up, or before the phone even began rang, Peter gave Deadpool an uneasy look.

"Uh, where are we?"

"New York."

"Wha-, I thought I told you to- Ugh, where in New York? Which Borough?" Peter whispered harshly after the fifth ring.

"Ooooooh! The Bronx."

Peter gulped harshly as the line picked up to voicemail.

 

\---

 

Deadpool wasn't listening to Peter's conversation towards, what he heard, his Aunt. Instead he wandered back into the kitchen and threw the now burnt pancake he had going before Peter woke up away. The forming stack of about 300 pancakes towered over Deadpool, whom stood with satisfaction at the looming mound. Of the few talents he had (which really he had a lot), pancake making was his best.

He quickly grabbed a few for Peter, spreading the butter and syrup like a pro on top of the fluffy pancakes, and a ton for him doing the same process that made the 'dish' look absolutely delectable.

With each plate in hand, he walked out to see Peter click the end button on his phone. He looked up, the sight of the pancakes making his chocolate brown eyes notably light up. He quickly set the phone down on the dirty coffee table and quickly approached Deadpool, but stopping short as he reached to grab the smaller plate of pancakes, knowing that it was his considering the other plate had nearly a stack of 15. With his hand withdrawn but not taking the plate, Deadpool instead shoved it into his hand and promptly took a seat on the couch.

Peter turned and looked wearily at Deadpool as he lifted his mask to the bridge of his nose to dig in. Peter had gotten used to the scarred and chapped skin underneath the mask, well, at least from his neck to his nose, being that he's seen Deadpool eat plenty of times before. The whole issue was that he just couldn’t imagine someone to be like that full body, as Deadpool had reassured him whenever Spiderman had joked back about Deadpool would be sexy under his mask too. Along with rumor running around the Avengers and X-Men (not like Peter had any close associations to the X-Men. Some of them scared him, mostly because of their hard willed personalities).

Even with being used to Deadpool chowing down messily on things, it was still awkward when he set himself as far away from the merc as possible on the couch (considering the other piece of furniture, which was a chair, was a little too sketchy for his tastes). And despite the gross smacking sounds coming from Deadpool's mouth, and his hunched over animalistic figure that would make anybody loose their hunger, Peter still dug in considering his stomach was growling furiously at him to eat a thing.

And a thing he did eat, less uncouthly, but still frantically shoveling the four pancakes stack into his mouth, satisfying the beast that is his stomach for a little while. And not more than five minutes later, both had finished nearly at the same time. Both had tossed their sticky plates onto the heap of garbage on the coffee table, and while Peter leaned back to digest, Deadpool had gotten up to maneuver over to the chair that was nearby the couch.

Despite being in a foreign place, and having his entire form shown to Deadpool, Peter didn't really want to deal with the potential worry over his secret identity being ruined and his family that is in potential danger. In fact, the pain and satisfaction of a full stomach was the only thing ringing in his head. Anyway, Deadpool didn't have his name. He remembers safely tossing his personal non-spidey things in a specific place before going head on into a fire, and Deadpool isn't exactly smart enough to pinpoint Peter's exact face in a crowd such as New York. Anyway, he had his contacts in, and his glasses make all the difference in his appearance to be truthful.

It took him a moment to realize that Deadpool was staring right at him, now with his mask back fully on. And his dopey interested look that he usually gives Spiderman is now a hard stare, a studious stare. Peter returned the gaze with more of a disgusted look, trying to bring up another side of himself, trying to make Deadpool believe his secret identity was someone else other than Peter Parker.

"What are you looking at?" Peter snarled, lifting his nose and nodding at his direction all the while crossing his arms.

Deadpool glared. "Don't give me that 'tough guy' bullshit, you nerd. Who are you?" Deadpool pointed menacingly.

Well, now that Deadpool easily stared through his tough guy act he could try something else but there wasn't much else to act as. If he could see through the tough act, he could probably see through a lot else. Instead, Peter gulped, and decided to instead of being the interrogated to become the interrogator. If he gave anything up, it'd be costly.

"Who are YOU?"

"Wha- you already KNOW me! I'm Deadpool, you even know my name, you dip!"

"I don't remember." Peter huffed, crossing his arms and pouting slightly.

"Wade, Wade Wilson. Nice to meet you."

Deadpool leaned forward and offered a hand, which Peter, on instinct, leaned forward and promptly gripped with proper handshake strength. They both gave a single shake, at to which Peter replied. "Peter, Peter Parker! Nice to meet y-" He stopped short, pulling his hand quickly away from Wade's as if his hand burnt him. He cursed at himself, cursing his overall good nature. 'Dammit Aunt May', he thought, 'Why'd you have to give me the will of politeness?'

Deadpool leaned back into his chair, a satisfied grin plastered onto his smug face.

"Peter Parker! Pete, Petey, Petester, Petereno-"

"Please stop." Peter growled and glared.

"Peter Parker." Deadpool repeated, despite Peter's threatening glare. He leaned back, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and propping both of his hands behind his head. He let the name sink in, the name of the masked man he had a crush on since the day he had met him. Instead, Peter piped up to end the awkwardness from between the two after a few short seconds.

"Well, since we exchanged names, now we get to exchange faces. You know mine, now I want to know yours."

Deadpool snapped from his melancholy stage and whipped his head to look menacingly towards Peter. His feet now resided onto the floor with a stomp, and Deadpool proceeded to lean forward slowly as his hands gripped the chair cushions menacingly. His glared hardened as he stared into Peter's eyes, which caused Peter to squirm uncomfortably as the lack of mask was causing him to feel exposed and naked (even when the suit was more revealing than what he was wearing now). But still, Peter kept his confidence stance as Deadpool slowly growled.

"I don't think you're ready for that, Parker." He spat Peter's last name as if it were an insult, like much of Peter's old high school bullies did. Shit, Deadpool had only known his name for less than 120 seconds and he already used it as a threat. It's a record.

Peter huffed and leaned back, crossing his arms and glaring away from Deadpool. It was somewhat understandable, considering Peter thinks he's not even ready for it. But still, as much of a people pleaser he tries to be, it's always fun to tease Deadpool with sarcastic sneers. But this wasn't exactly a sarcastic sneer; although he did understand just WHY Deadpool wanted to keep his face a secret, but not exactly. He didn't have a secret identity to withdraw, so why would he be so eager as to not to show his face. So, Peter pushed rather than kept it alone.

"Are YOU ready?"

Deadpool leaned back, his hardened glare turning into a confused look. He cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow quizzically. "Ready for what?"

"Ready to show your face?"

Deadpool looked taken aback, startled even. He leaned backwards, one eyebrow still cocked as he stared at Peter. "I-" He swallowed hard, gripping the seat he was sitting in even harder. "I don't know what you mean?"

"Why are YOU so concerned over showing your face?"

"Well, why are you?"

"Because I have a SECRET Identity, people to protect and things to hide. You don't have anything to hide, you don't have anything or anyone to protect. What's the big deal?" Usually Peter was more understanding in situations like this, but Deadpool's is stumping him.

"Well, it isn't exactly the best feeling when people run and scream because of how you look." Deadpool snapped, his muscles flexing underneath his spandex before he leaned back again and proceeded to glare out the window and to avoid eye contact as he wrinkled his nose in disgust and curled his lips into a silent snarl. He licked the front of his teeth and huffed, proceeding to go into an angry pout-like state.

Peter blinked. Well, apparently Deadpool had something to protect. His feelings. 

'Deadpool has feelings? Deadpool has feelings. Well, of course he has feelings, he's always seemed pouty whenever I kicked him out of the city but- self-conscious feelings? Deadpool cares about how he looks? Wow.' Peter thought.

"Deadpool..."

Deadpool turned and looked at Peter, a scowl across his face.  
Peter ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He sat there for a second, head back and eyes closed, before he opened them again and saw Deadpool’s face had softened.

Peter jumped when Deadpool suddenly stood up. Neither of them said anything when Deadpool maneuvered through the trash and turned the corner down the hallway. Peter just watched as he disappeared and winced at the loud slam of a door.

The sound of white noise, running water, caused Peter to sigh and slump into the couch. He tapped his fingers on the armrest and sighed, humming slightly as he waited for the sound of a shower to stop. And it took a while, which Peter entertained himself by clicking the remote for the TV to turn it on.

It took a bit for the TV to flicker on and respond, but eventually the static cleared to showoff the face of New York’s anchorman, his professional booming voice overcoming the static and eventually pronouncing the news of the night before.

The view of a crisp burnt and toppled building came into view, as well as scared and scarred civilians looking at the rubble with tears running down their cheeks, smearing the ash that stuck to their faces.

“-Apartment building that was viciously attacked by what we can conclude as the Green Goblin’s doing. 15 harmed and 7 dead, potentially 8 dead due to the disappearance of Spider-Man who was on the scene at the time. No body was found, however the police force concluded in a few theories that involves Spiderman’s capture that ties into Green Goblin. No sign of Spiderman since last night’s occurrence, and civilians are anxiously waiting for his return.”

The TV flickered to a small boy and his older, teenage sister looking hopelessly in the camera with frowns pulling at their faces. “We already miss you Spiderman!” The little boy cried, which the sister replied with a hand squeeze.

Peter swallowed a knot his throat and clenched the armrest. Despite the newspaper constantly bashing him, and the majority of the New Yorker adults disliking him, the newer generations of New York are completely convinced and know the real truth of Spiderman’s purpose, and it was heart wrenching to see them care about him so much.

He blinked, realizing the reality of the situation.

The police force’s theory on Spiderman’s disappearance might have been true, if Deadpool weren’t there to grab him.

The sudden grind of metal on metal caused Peter to advert away from his thoughts, noticing that the water from the bathroom was turned off. He sighed and stood, making his way towards the bathroom.

Walking doing the hallway, he noticed the steam spilling from the door that was slightly ajar. He stpped, stood for a second and listened to the rustling of clothes, giving a chance for Deadpool to get dressed, and approached the door, pushing it open.

Peter gasped as he caught a slight glimpse of rippling back muscle underneath scarred and mangled skin. Peter jumped back violently, clinging to the wall behind him, as a sudden gun nozzle was pointed.

He didn’t mind the gun nozzle that was straight in between his eyes; in fact he stared past the slick metal that could easily end his life. Instead he stared at its carrier, who stood menacingly in a defensive stance, eyes glaring and a scowl pulled over his face.

Golden brown eyes glared at Peter, who was absolutely in a trance at the gorgeous eyes that bore into him. There was a growl before the door slammed and a harsh sound of a lock echoed through the hall.

Peter stayed clinged to the wall for a minute, still staring at the stained and cracked door, before finally climbing off of the wall and leaning against it, sliding down it, and sat on the floor.

He growled at the arousal that rose within his groin, the heat causing him to fidget in his place on the ground, the thought of Deadpool’s muscles twisting and flexing as the gun was drawn. He growled slightly and looked away from the door, the burning of a blush causing him to hug his knees forward to try his best to hide it.

It was a good five minutes before Peter spoke up, once his issue was gone.

“You have brown eyes.”

There was a long pause, a silence, before a few seconds of shuffling from behind the door. “So do you.”

Peter blinked and paused, snorting a little before continuing. “I half expected you to be black.”

The door opened to Wade in his costume fully, who looked down at Peter. His face was expressionless, but you could tell that his eyebrows were furrowed together. “I half expected you to be older. When you got your bullshit powers you were, what, fifteen?”

“Around that.”

“Jeezus.” Deadpool walked passed him. “I feel like a total pedophile. Your butt never said you were fifteen.”

Peter snorted and stood, looking halfheartedly down at his baggy white tank top and the Spiderman boxers that were way too big for him and sagged. “Deadpool I gotta get home.”

“Okay.” Peter blinked in surprise. He half expected Deadpool to start to beg for him to stay again. He cleared his throat awkwardly and replied. “Well, where’s my Spideysuit?”

“Behind the couch.”

Oh yeah. He had remembered seeing it. He followed directions and found the suit, quickly retrieving it from the ground and going to go and put it on in the bathroom. He grunted as to pull the tight thing on, and once it was all on except for the mask, he walked out.

“I- uh- left your clothes on the bathroom floor.”

Deadpool had hid himself in the kitchen, so Peter stood awkwardly in the living room alone and seemed as though he wasn’t talking to anybody but himself. Deadpool replied with a grunt of acceptance and Peter sighed again.

“Deadpool, I uh. I just wanted to say thanks. For saving me and things.” There was a pause, and another grunt in response. Peter sighed and walked over to the fire exit window and lifted it, and half way through he sighed once more and paused.

“Deadpool?”

No response.

“Can you walk me home?”

There was a loud clatter and a bit of shuffling until Deadpool’s head once more popped around the corner with glee and surprise written all over his mask. And despite his overall joy, Deadpool still protested.

“But you’re Spiderman you can swing home yourself.”

Peter proceeded to pull on his Spiderman mask, to hide any embarrassment that was plastered on his face, and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Deadpool’s smile widened as he ushered over. “I accept!”


	3. Chapter 3

Both were perched on a building that was nearby the disaster that had happen a few days earlier, Spiderman having grabbed his left backpack and shrugging it onto his shoulders.

They were on the outer skirts of the city, before the suburbs began again.

People were ecstatic over Spiderman’s return, which made Peter smile. What made him smile even more was the way Deadpool was shivering and holding onto Spiderman with a death grip, each rough turn or big drop caused Deadpool to stiffen.

And upon landing on the building, Spiderman going to retrieve his backpack, Deadpool had retched and dry heaved. 

When he got back up he saw Deadpool downing spitting toothpaste from his mouth. Spiderman gave him a look and dropped his bag on the graveled rooftop. He lifted his eyebrow and dug a water bottle from the backpack and tossed it towards Deadpool, who caught it and began to sip and gargle.

“Where’d you get toothpaste and a toothbrush anyway?”

“Ew, warm water. Oh, I found it.”

Spiderman snorted and zipped up his bag, tossing it over his shoulder once more. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

“No?”

Spiderman laughed and walked towards the edge of the building, ready to jump and swing home, before stopping himself and blinked. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and turned to look at Deadpool, whose mask was still up to the bridge of his nose and he was smiling.

Spiderman sighed and walked back, awkwardly outreaching his hand.

“Uh, thanks. For saving my life.”

Deadpool smiled and shook it eagerly. “Anytime Webhead.”

Spiderman pulled away from the shake and rubbed his arm awkwardly. “And thanks for taking care of me.”

There was a pause. 

Spiderman sighed and quickly kissed Deadpool’s uncovered cheek and just as quickly, retreated to the edge of the building. He paused before jumping, not turning to see Deadpool’s reaction.

“And thanks for keeping it a secret.”

And with that, he webbed off.

Deadpool’s smile was gone as he touched his cheek and watched Spiderman get farther and farther away.

He sighed and pulled down his mask and turned to walk home. “Funny, I should be the one thanking you.”


End file.
